


there's just some things that never change

by undeliveredtruth



Series: svt requests & randoms [18]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Bad Boy Choi Seungcheol | S.Coups, Businessman Seungkwan, Forbidden Love, M/M, Rough Sex, Secret Hook-ups, Some non-zero level of angst, Spanking, they're whipped for each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-27
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-09-27 20:43:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,796
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20414014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/undeliveredtruth/pseuds/undeliveredtruth
Summary: Seungkwan loves bad boys. Loves the concept, loves when Seungcheol takes him apart and spanks him and plays with him and rasps dirty words in his ear and when he leaves bite marks on his thighs and his stomach and his neck, loves the thrill and the hiding and the excitement of their two different lives. Proper Seungkwan and bad boy Seungcheol.But he doesn’t love it when Seungcheol... not when Seungcheol really is that nowadays.





	there's just some things that never change

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cheolkwan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheolkwan/gifts).

> Hello everyone! I'm back with this.......... I think like half of my works at this point are like businessman/mafia inspired, so this should be my last one because I'm running out of ways to write it haha (probably won't be)..... but let's go with it!! One day, I'm going to write another Cheolkwan AU where they're part of different dancing crews in Miami that's more heavily inspired by Senorita, but that means a lot of research, so one day........
> 
> This request... I really, really fell like... really hard for Cheolkwan, seriously. Like *really* hard, I love their dynamics so much, come talk to me about them whenever pls I am whipped beyond belief... not that I'm able to write them though haha. This Seungkwan is a bit OOC, but... since this world is different, let's just go with that.
> 
> Before you start!! T/W: Smoking features pretty heavily, there are mentions of domestic abuse, and also their relationship starts when they're both underage, when some sexual situations are referenced, but nothing happens. There's also a pretty long fight scene, but it's like a workout. If you have any questions or concerns, please text me before you start! 
> 
> My Twitter and CuriousCat are @bbysvts. Come talk to me anytime! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy <3

“Get in, and get in quick, I swear,” Seungkwan tugs Seungcheol in by his wrist, annoyed by his amused face. Seungcheol is an _idiot._ “Daddy will kill both of us if someone saw you.”

“Awh baby, but daddy’s here,” Seungcheol deadpans, a smirk on his face.

“Shut up. Just shut up,” Seungkwan whispers incredulously, letting the happiness and the excitement from Seungcheol being here thrum up in his veins, take the lead, arching up to kiss him.

Seungcheol laughs again when Seungkwan’s lips eagerly touch his, his hands wrapping around his waist, pushing him up against the wall. Seungkwan’s hands don’t move fast enough to divest him of his leather jacket, throwing it somewhere behind them, Seungcheol biting at his lips. Seungkwan moans in protest when Seungcheol doesn’t pull off for him to take off his shirt, only kissing him harder, heatedly. Seungkwan fists his hands in his shirt underneath his arms and moans, his knees giving when Seungcheol grabs at his ass and presses him more into his hard chest, holding him up on his tiptoes.

God. Seungcheol manhandling him... Seungkwan won’t come out and admit it to him that it’s one of his biggest kinks but god it is, god does Seungkwan love it, blood rushing straight to his dick when Seungcheol turns him around and presses him to the wall, his chest on Seungkwan’s back.

“I missed you so bad,” Seungcheol whispers in his ear, his breathing probably heavy from running up the stairs. “You sent me that picture and thought I wouldn’t come?”

“I wanted you to,” Seungkwan admits, muffled by his cheek pressing on the wall, too quick to give everything up. His pretenses are nothing with Seungcheol pressed to him like that, his hand under Seungkwan’s shirt to press at his back, sneak under the waistband of his pants. Playing? Teasing? Not their thing. They’re both too desperate, too starved for each other’s touch to prolong it more than they need to. Seungkwan needs Seungcheol to touch him before he _burns._

“Bed, come on,” Seungcheol throws, but Seungkwan quickly shakes his head.

“No, here. Fuck me here.”

“Fine. Your wish is my command then,” Seungcheol says, a bit of an amused surprise coloring his tone, even though Seungkwan can tell how excited Seungcheol is at his eagerness.

Right here, next to Seungkwan’s front door. Seungkwan wants Seungcheol to take him, and take him now.

“Lube and condom in my back pocket,” he tells Seungcheol before his pyjama pants are tugged down to his thighs, Seungcheol immediately grabbing at his ass. Yes. _That’s it._

Seungcheol doesn’t spare a second to slide a finger into him, chuckling when he realizes. “Did you get ready for me, hmm, baby?”

“Yes, yes I did,” Seungkwan volunteers right away, arching back into him before Seungcheol adds another finger, dragging them in and out of him. His free hand tangles with Seungkwan’s on the wall, because no matter how rough they fuck, Seungkwan loves Seungcheol, and he knows he is loved in return. “You kept me waiting for so long, I had to do _something.”_

“Don’t be ungrateful, love. I came as quick as I could.” Seungcheol pulls back, likely admiring the view of his fingers inside Seungkwan, the desperate arch of his back for him. Seungkwan knows what’s coming, the thrill raising goosebumps on his skin.

_Smack._ Seungcheol’s hand comes down hard on him, the wall muffling Seungkwan’s desperate whimper. “Such a spoiled brat.”

“For you. Only… hmm, _only you.”_

“For me. _My_ spoiled brat,” Seungcheol’s three fingers stretch him, open him up for him, his hand coming down on Seungkwan again and again until he’s tender and burning and a blubbering mess and he needs Seungcheol _now,_ _needs_ him inside him so he can finally put rhyme to reason and get his bearings together.

Seungcheol didn't use to be like this. So... comfortable placing his ownership of Seungkwan out in the open like this, so easily placating Seungkwan's own controlling instincts.

But things have changed. Many things have changed.

Reaching back, he pulls Seungcheol by his shirt more into him, feels him press on him, his fingers sliding out. Seungkwan tugs at him, grabs the base of his cock and leads him to his hole, arches back into him until Seungcheol slides inside him with a groan, his head resting on the back of his hair. Seungkwan keeps going, keeps going until he finally feels full, satisfied, his ass pressed to Seungcheol’s crotch and Seungcheol so deep inside him Seungkwan can finally breathe.

_Yes._ This is what he craves every day, feeling Seungcheol deep inside him, his big arms holding on to his hips, enveloping him and finally making him feel at home. When all day every day he’s forced to face a version of himself he’s scared of seeing, Seungcheol feels like coming home. Unchanged, he still pushes inside Seungkwan with the same force, kisses him with the same passion, lets Seungkwan take the lead when it’s not quick enough, fast enough, enough in general.

Seungkwan owns Seungcheol when they’re like this, even if it’s him who’s getting fucked within an inch of his life, drooling on the wall and almost choking when Seungcheol picks up his pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin ringing out loud in the apartment.

If someone was on the other side of this wall… they’d know. They’d know exactly what Seungkwan is doing, plastered to this wall and unable to move, and the traitorous thought takes root in his mind and grows, grows and turns him _on,_ people knowing just what he's doing, until Seungcheol decides he wants to kiss the tattoo on the back of Seungkwan’s shoulder, reminding him to stay in the moment.

With him. Seungkwan whines and cries out and moans in Seungcheol’s mouth and comes in Seungcheol’s fist and squeezes around him until he feels Seungcheol pulse inside him and come, drag his orgasm until Seungkwan’s a blubbering mess again.

A satisfied mess. A content mess, uncaring for the actual mess around him, clothes and coats fallen from the coat hanger as he turns around and kisses Seungcheol properly.

“Thank you.”

“Why are you thanking me?”

Seungkwan’s not ready to answer that yet. Instead, he pulls Seungcheol towards his shower, because he still has limits and he won’t cuddle with Seungcheol when they’re this gross.

\---

Soonyoung takes one look at him on Monday morning and smirks knowingly.

“The hickey, boss, nice!” He throws a hand at Seungkwan with a thumbs up. Seungkwan scrambles to slap a hand on his neck, but Soonyoung only chuckles. “Other side, boss.”

“Fuck, Soonyoung-hyung. What am I gonna do? I have a meeting in half an hour,” he whines, getting up to look in the mirror he had installed in his office. His philosophy is that any meeting goes better when his hair is arranged and his suit fits well on his body.

_Fucking hell._ Seungcheol actually left him the mother of all hickeys, a red, angry thing that can’t be mistaken for anything else other than what it is. Not even with his shirt buttoned up will he be able to hide it, the red peeking from under the collar.

“I can ask Jeonghan-hyung to help. He always has make-up with him.”

“Please, quick, hyung. I need this contract,” he throws, waving at Soonyoung with a hand to go. Soonyoung’s only one of the people working in HR, but he’s quietly grown to be something of Seungkwan’s assistant, doting on him as he would to a younger brother and to a boss at the same time.

God knows Seungkwan needs it.

But Seungkwan doesn’t need Soonyoung and Jeonghan _and_ Seokmin walking into his office with matching smiles on his faces that tell Seungkwan he isn’t getting out of this without extensive explanations.

“Was it good, boss?”

“Jeonghan-hyung, I don’t need this now,” Seungkwan whines without any malice in his voice, knowing his fate’s already sealed.

Jeonghan stops pulling stuff out from his make-up bag. “No, but what you need is a great make-up artist with serious skills to fix this, that’s how bad it is, so you better start talking.”

Seungkwan sighs, feels him get to work. “It was good.”

“Who was it? Was it someone from the firm?” Seokmin grins, somehow finding a patch on Seungkwan’s desk to free of papers and sit on. The disadvantage of having employees who are mostly older than you is this; he can’t say no, even knowing that by the end of the day Seungkwan and hook-up are going to be two words very commonly falling from people’s lips in the same sentence.

“No. It was not. That’s not right, Seokmin-ah.”

“Ooh, had a date then, boss?”

“No. Nothing like that.”

It must be the wrong thing to say, judging by the loud _aahs_ chorused around his office.

“Hot one night stand then? Maybe someone from another firm? Something of a... forbidden romance?” Seokmin grins, winks.

Seungkwan’s face immediately falls, the joke completely missing its mark. Seokmin catches on, by how his grin filters out slowly, the sudden silence tense, awkward. Seungkwan couldn’t be more obvious if he tried.

Jeonghan’s patting on his neck stops. “Boss...”

“Anyway, done yet? Have to go see if the meeting room is set up,” Seungkwan aches to get up, extend his legs and get himself out of this awkward tension. Jeonghan knows Seungcheol from back then, and Seungkwan can’t risk any rumors.

“Yeah, boss. I’m done. You can go to the meeting,” Jeonghan stands up, packing his things back. When he looks at Seungkwan, it’s clear that he has more to say. “Take care, Seungkwan-ah.”

It has nothing to do with the meeting.

\---

Halfway through the meeting, as he’s presenting his revised proposal to the client, his phone starts vibrating. When he sees Seungcheol’s name on his phone, he startles.

Fuck, he took the wrong phone from his desk.

And it doesn’t stop vibrating, Seungcheol’s texts to him not hidden at all.

_‘are u in your office, Kwannie?’_

_‘miss u’_

_‘couldn’t stop thinking about u today. idk what’s wrong with me’_

Seungkwan tries to ignore them, focus on his client’s face, but the client’s eyes are also flitting down to Seungkwan’s vibrating phone.

“You’re a wanted man.”

“No, I’m sorry, it’s just…”

_‘found this donut place and they have the best donuts ever, you’d love them’_

_‘they’re in the middle of nowhere you probably won’t be seen’_

_‘maybe we can go sometime hmm’_

“Sorry, I’m just going to...” He points towards the phone, and the client nods, waving their hand in a ‘go for it’ gesture, but they’re clearly displeased. Seungkwan picks up his phone and quickly texts Seungcheol.

_‘Stop texting me’ _

He puts the phone back on the table face down, feels it vibrate once more and then go quiet. His eyes focus back on the client with a smile and well-practiced honest apologies on his lips.

_\---_

_‘Oh… I’m sorry Kwannie. I’ll stop.’_

\---

For three days, he can’t bear texting Seungcheol. He lost the client because of him, was chewed up by his father for it for the whole office to hear, his office not soundproof at all, which meant pity looks from all his employees when he took as much as one single step out of his office to go to the bathroom.

Whenever he sees Seungcheol’s name in his texts on his second phone, anger raises ugly in his chest, Seungcheol’s last text left unread.

But is he angry at Seungcheol? Is he?

It’s 7 PM but he goes home, rips his blazer from the back of his chair and puts it on so nobody can see the tattoo through his white shirt. He wouldn’t ever wear one if he had a choice since they’re so transparent, but he hasn’t had the energy to go to dry cleaning lately. He doesn’t care if someone sees him or not.

He goes home. Slams the door shut and keeps the tears in his throat until he takes his suit off, neatly hangs it up in his closet. When he drops himself on the bed they don’t stay away though, welling up in his eyes with that uncomfortable, ugly feeling of tightness rearing its head.

He’s such a shit human being. He’s so awful, he’s so fucking awful, Seungcheol just... He just wants to make him happy.

After everything... and even after everything, everything he's done to him, Seungkwan still doesn’t know how to be a good person to Seungcheol.

His doorbell rings and he startles out of bed, quickly wiping at his eyes and sniffing, trying to not make it seem like he was crying. Who could it be? He didn’t order anything.

Looking through the viewfinder, he sees a delivery man with flowers. Fucking _flowers._ He quickly opens the door, greeting the man with a confused tone.

“Is this Boo Seungkwan’s apartment?”

“Yes?”

“These are for you. Have a good evening,” the man gives the huge arrangement of roses to him and leaves, his footsteps patting down the stairs not helping Seungkwan with the reality of this.

Of course he knows who they are from. But nonetheless, putting them on the kitchen table and picking up the little note, he feels tears well back up in his eyes anyway, his lips trembling.

_I hope you’re doing well, Kwannie. I’m sorry if I upset you._

_I love you._

Seungkwan’s tears turn into ugly sobs and he collapses to the kitchen floor, rereading the note through blurry eyes.

_How?_ How can he be mad at Seungcheol for losing him a client, when Seungkwan’s cost him his whole life?

\---

Seungkwan forgives him. Seungkwan had to, tears up while writing the text and explaining himself, but he doesn’t even have to send it before Seungcheol sends him a smiling emoji and a _‘hi, Kwannie.’_

He was waiting for him to text. He had his texts open, waiting for Seungkwan to do something, start typing, for the three dots to show up.

Suddenly, the keyboard of his phone blurs under his eyes and Seungkwan finds himself crying again. Again, the tears falling unbidden from his eyes, staining his bedsheets.

\---

The next time he caves and asks Seungcheol to come over, it's different. Maybe it's because Seungkwan's apology is stuck in his throat and won't come out, that makes him push Seungcheol down on the bed and suck his brains out through his dick, pull out his 10/10 blowjob techniques before Seungcheol can even say anything.

Seungcheol knows anyway when Seungkwan, ever the talker, doesn't know how to articulate the thoughts in his head. It's easy with others, to explain himself and form narratives that easily come out of his mouth, explain himself through the most difficult of situations with well-crafted lies, but with Seungcheol, the only person he's ever honest with... it's hard.

Vulnerability's been beaten out of Seungkwan early. So it has out of Seungcheol, but Seungcheol's always been more empathetic, more sensitive than him.

"You're good?" Seungcheol asks, panting after his orgasm, looking at Seungkwan between his legs, catching his breath.

Looking up at Seungcheol, maybe he can tell the tornado of thoughts bursting through Seungkwan's head right now.

"Come here," Seungcheol fixes himself and pulls him up, sits up against the headboard so Seungkwan can fit himself in his lap, hug himself close to Seungcheol.

This emotion doesn't really have a name. When Seungcheol strokes the back of his head, runs his hands through his hair, smooths over the tattoo that Seungkwan now has a second conscience of. It's maybe akin to being under the pouring rain and someone coming to you with an umbrella, suddenly shielded even if the rain keeps deafeningly pouring around you, and you're not dry.

But once the thought is there... Seungkwan imagines Seungcheol wrapping a hand around him and taking him home, pulling off his wet clothes and drying him up with a towel, dressing him up again and pulling him into bed to cuddle, letting Seungkwan borrow his warmth.

And so they're back in the present. There's no rain outside, but Seungkwan still feels the chill down to his bones.

"Kiss me," he breathily whispers on Seungcheol's lips, Seungcheol's finger tilting his chin up right away to touch Seungkwan's lips with his.

The kiss is nothing but soft, a barely-there touch of lips, Seungkwan's eyes closing anyway with a sigh.

"I ruined it."

"You didn't ruin anything," Seungcheol tangles his fingers with Seungkwan's, letting Seungkwan's forehead rest on his. "I'm sorry I didn't notice."

"You don't have that much time anyway and..."

"When was the last time we met without having sex, hmm?"

Seungkwan pretends to think. "Hmm..."

"It's been too long and you don't remember."

"True," Seungkwan's eyes open, taking in Seungcheol's small smile. His lips turn down in dissatisfaction, climbing down from Seungcheol's lap. "Let's go get donuts."

"Wh... really? You'd eat sugar after 9 PM?" Seungcheol jumps up from the bed, and Seungkwan picks up his leather jacket, discarded on the chair. He puts his arms through it, shakes it on his shoulders, the weight of it unfamiliar on his frame.

One, two steps, and Seungcheol is in front of him, smiling, his hands attaching themselves to Seungkwan's hips. It's the first time Seungkwan's worn it in a long time, and the smell of dull smoke and perfume, _so Seungcheol,_ invades his nostrils.

"I..."

"Maybe later?" Seungcheol picks up, and Seungkwan eagerly nods, pulling Seungcheol back into bed.

\---

Usually... usually Seungkwan wouldn’t bring this up to save his life, but pillowed on Seungcheol’s chest, his quick heartbeat racing in Seungkwan’s ears, content little sighs whispered close to Seungkwan’s ear, even if the sex was as mindblowing as always... he wants to tear up.

He thought he could forget, that Seungcheol could fuck it out of him, but he can’t. The black jacket on the floor catches his eye, and the memory of Seungcheol’s smell, the cologne and the hint of smoke coming from it comes back up to the forefront of his mind, chilling him. The roses are still on the kitchen table, not having withered from a week ago.

Seungkwan loves bad boys. Loves the concept, loves when Seungcheol takes him apart and spanks him and plays with him and rasps dirty words in his ear and when he leaves bite marks on his thighs and his stomach and his neck, loves the thrill and the hiding and the excitement of their two different lives. Proper Seungkwan and bad boy Seungcheol.

But he doesn’t love it when Seungcheol... not when Seungcheol really is that nowadays.

“What did I do to you?” Seungkwan’s sudden, horrified tone startles Seungcheol, who looks up at him before a fog falls over his eyes.

“We agreed not to talk about this, Seungkwan.”

“But...”

“Shh, Seungkwanie. It’s okay, it’s okay. Don’t worry, I’m fine,” Seungcheol tugs at his shoulder, tugs him down by the back of his neck, kisses Seungkwan and makes all the tension in his body melt, like always. Seungcheol’s rough lips on his are more convincing that anything else, stifling the fire inside Seungkwan quickly, until Seungcheol pulls him on top of him and puts a hand in his hair and that’s it.

Except... except it doesn't really go away this time.

\---

“Seungkwan? Hello?”

Seungkwan quickly looks up from his phone, locks it and puts it on his desk, coughing at his father.

“Yes, father?”

“The Kims are on their way. We’re signing that contract today, so get yourself together and please flirt with his daughter. She’s whipped for you, so just…” His father waves his hand around, in a gesture of ‘you get it.’ “Make it happen. Promise to take her to dinner if you have to.”

His father leaves Seungkwan in his office, and when the glass door closes behind him, Seungkwan unlocks his phone again.

He’s kept the pictures. The pictures of himself in Seungcheol’s leather jacket, nothing underneath, his naked chest pressed to Seungcheol’s in the almost darkness of his bedroom. They’re taken from the lips down to their chest, almost their stomach, and they’re smiling in the first, their lips almost touching. He’s biting Seungcheol’s lip in the second and in the third they’re kissing. In the fourth, you can slightly see the tangle of their tongues. Before he could take a fifth, Seungkwan put the phone down, threw his arms around Seungcheol’s neck and kissed the air out of him.

They’re the only photos they ever took. Seungkwan shouldn’t have kept them, shouldn’t have _taken_ them in the first place, but… they’re the only thing he still has from then.

That and the memories; the smell of new on Seungcheol’s leather jacket, his quiet gasps in his ears when Seungkwan moved in his lap, the feeling of his wrists straining under Seungkwan’s hands. The pen digging in Seungkwan’s thigh that left a mark Seungkwan has until today because Seungcheol was _“helping him study,”_ the low noise of the movie behind them, the giggles Seungkwan stifled with his lips when the tension turned into laughter and Seungkwan whined off of Seungcheol’s lap because Seungcheol_ ruined it._ How Seungcheol tried to comfort him with tickles instead. The safety and security of him laying on Seungcheol’s chest under his comforter after, hugging him close.

The happiness when they thought they were invincible, hidden from the world around them, just them against everyone else. Seungkwan actually believed it.

Now... he’s not so foolish.

\---

"So... what do you do? In the firm?" The girl smiles across from him, and Seungkwan forces himself to smile in return. It's not her fault she's here as much as it's not Seungkwan's.

"I'm actually the Vicepresident."

"You are? Oh, that's really cool!" She exclaims, putting her glass of wine down. She's perfectly mannered, perfectly nice.

"I guess so. It's good," he nods, taking a sip as well. "What about you?"

"I'm the head of HR for now. We'll see later, when my father retires, where I'll end up."

Of course she's aiming to take over. Seungkwan's recently learned that this is not necessarily a bad personal trait, ambition.

"Do you like what you and your father do?"

"Like the firm?"

"Yeah, the work," Seungkwan nods, takes a bite of his steak.

"I guess so. When I was little, I'd never thought I'd work in finance, but..." She shrugs, perfectly manicured hands twisting the pasta on her fork. "Could be worse places than here. I've learned that being an astronaut is not an easy career path."

Seungkwan smiles, a genuine smile this time. She's funny.

In other circumstances...

In these circumstances, Seungkwan reminds himself with a mental slap to the face. "So did I."

"What did you want to be?"

Seungkwan twists the words in his mouth, but they don't come out.

"I don't even remember. Something there, something with arts."

"Oh," she nods. "I get you. You never know though, how life turns out. Maybe one day..."

"You don't, indeed," Seungkwan takes another bite of the juicy steak, chases it down with a glass of wine, even if he knows and she knows that in places like these, things rarely change.

\---

He puts her in a taxi with the promise to keep in touch. Truthfully, she's great. Smart, maybe too smart for him. Seungkwan will see how this contract turns out first, if he needs to date her again.

Back on the main road, he figures he should call a taxi for himself as it's already 10 PM and the night is falling over the city, but on the corner of the street, the 'Cigarettes' sign on a shack catches his eyes.

He walks down the crowded street, bends down so the ahjumma inside the shack sees him.

"Marlboro Golds and a lighter, please," he tells her, slides his credit card and takes them from her, fiddles with the lighter in his hands until the ahjumma gives him his card back and sends him on his way.

Seungkwan walks through the alleyways near the restaurant, but it's a nice neighborhood. There are no dark places, no shady alleyways to sit in, so he doesn't stand out in his suit.

Maybe it's better. He eventually finds a dark corner, sits down on the quiet alleyway and pulls the plastic on a pack.

He doesn't usually smoke. He never does, actually, doesn't remember the last time he did. Maybe it's Seungcheol rubbing on him, maybe it's his age. The firm, his father, the responsibilities, crafting him into the Korean chaebol son he's supposed to be.

The taste of the cigarette is somehow comforting, or maybe the smell is.

Whatever it is, it emboldens him to reach out in his other pocket, pull out his second cellphone. He fiddles with it, picks it up in his hands, tugs at the home button, at the volume buttons, before he decides with a sigh, puts his thumb on the home button and watches it light up.

Seungcheol is the only name in his messages.

_'I miss you.'_

His back hits the brick wall, and he has half a mind to not do that since his suit was a few million won, but... his back hurts.

_'want me to come over?'_

_'I'm not home.'_

_'me neither actually...'_

_'Can you text?'_

_'yeah'_

_'Where are you?'_

_'paju'_

_'Why?'_

_'work... u don't wanna know'_

_'Hmm... What if I do?'_

His fingers fly over the screen, his cigarette between his index and middle finger as he types with both hands, but... does he really?

There are reasons why so much time passed and Seungkwan doesn't know anything about Seungcheol's work. Why would he ask now? Does he really want to dig there?

Before the three dots disappear, Seungkwan realizes his cigarette's gone, and he only took a few puffs. He stubs it on the ground, pulls out another one, lights it up and holds his phone as he waits.

_'do u really, Kwannie?'_

_'Yeah.'_

In the night, emboldened by the three glasses of wine, by the rush to his head the cigarettes give him, maybe Seungkwan is not Seungkwan anymore. Maybe this Seungkwan is the truer version of Seungkwan, the uninhibited, rebellious, confident one.

_'I want to know more. I don't care what you do.'_

_'i'm here because some people are distributing illegal drugs in our territory. driving the people who make sure they don't anymore'_

Seungkwan sighs. He knew the answer, but it doesn't mean he's happy with it.

_'Delete your texts.'_ Seungkwan tells him, and he does the same, deletes the last ones.

_'Kwannie... why are you texting me?'_

_'I said I miss you.'_

_'do you really? where are you?'_

_'Somewhere in Apgujeong. Had a date.'_

_'are you still at the date?'_

_'No. In an alleyway.'_

_'why are you in an alleyway?'_

_I'm,_ he starts writing, but deletes it. He doesn't want Seungcheol to know he's sitting in an alleyway by himself, smoking and texting him because he can't bear going home to his empty apartment right now.

_'go home, Kwannie. for me? okay?'_

Seungkwan takes the last puff of the cigarette and stubs it on the ground, next to the last one.

He gets up. Mostly unwillingly, but he does, picks up the two cigarette butts and drops them in the trashbag further along the alleyway, putting everything else in his pocket.

And then he heads to the main street, flags a taxi down, and settles in the back, picking up his phone again.

_'Going now. Be careful, hyung.'_

\---

Later that night, in bed with the shadow of a headache, half between being awake and sleeping, he hears footsteps in his room, and soon enough, someone slipping under the sheets behind him, the person's arm draping around Seungkwan's waist.

"Cheol?" He mutters, but he hears nothing but a _shh._

"It's me. Go to sleep," Seungkwan hears Seungcheol's deep voice, and lets himself drift to sleep pressed up to him.

\---

It could have been a dream. It could have because in the morning, with a full-on headache, Seungkwan's bed is empty.

But walking into the kitchen and opening the fridge, he sees the sandwich and the vegetables cut and prepared in a bowl, and the note on his smart fridge screen.

_'Have a good day, Kwannie. :)'_

Seungkwan purses his lips and pulls the sandwich out of the fridge, sitting down at the kitchen table and staring at the handwritten note.

\---

“Get me those files, Soonyoung-hyung. On the new hires. Quick, please, have a lot of menial tasks I need to unload.”

“Okay, boss. Right away,” Soonyoung leaves his office, but his dispirited attitude is more than obvious. Right when he comes back and drops the files on his desk, Seungkwan puts his pen down.

“Talk, Soonyoung-hyung.”

“Nothing’s wrong, boss. I’m sorry.”

“Something’s clearly wrong. Tell me,” Seungkwan pushes, dropping the formalities. Lately, they’ve been all growing on Seungkwan, and he thinks of them as friends more than not, the fact they’re his employees aside.

“I... might have gotten myself into a big mess.”

“What did you do?” Seungkwan narrows his eyes.

“So... you know that Jeonghan and Seokmin are dating, right?”

“They are?” Seungkwan screeches, surprising Soonyoung out of his doom and gloom.

“You didn’t know?”

“No? I’m calling them here right now...”

“No, please don’t,” Soonyoung stops them with a hand on his arm and his voice quick. “They probably hate me.”

“Why? What did you do?”

Soonyoung scratches his head, looking down. “So... I was hanging out at their place...”

_They live together?_ Seungkwan thinks. Maybe he doesn’t know that much about his employees, apparently.

“And... we might’ve had too much to drink. And... they tried to take me home but they were drunk too but they gave up and I remember Jeonghan dropped me on their couch and... I pulled him down and... _kissed him.”_

“You did _what?”_

“I know, _I know,”_ Soonyoung pitifully moans, dropping his head. “I planted a big one on him right then and there and then I think I passed out from the shock or whatever. I don’t remember anything and in the morning I tried to pretend nothing happened, but when I got dressed I forgot my watch at their place, and you know it’s my grandfather’s but now I can’t just ask them to go back and take it...”

“Okay, okay, Soonyoung-hyung,” Seungkwan stops his rant. “Why did you do that? Do you like him?”

“I like...” Soonyoung raises his head, scratching at his hair again, a sheepish look on his face. “Seokmin...?”

“Oh my god,” Seungkwan groans, dropping his head on the desk. This is a long day and it’s not even 9 AM.

\---

_‘Where are you?’_ Seungkwan texts Seungcheol out of the blue one day after work. He wants a stress relief from the amount of work he’s had piled upon him, and he feels a fuck won’t do it this time.

_‘home. why?’_

_‘Do you remember our gym?’_ Seungkwan texts back, picking up his blazer and his bag from the chair, exiting his office. There’s no one left since it’s past 9 PM, and he’s sent everyone home hours before; the stragglers and the interns working overtime have packed up and left too, and the office is dark, almost unwelcoming if it wasn’t so familiar to him.

_‘it closed years ago’_

_‘I bought it when it closed. Meet me there in half an hour.’_

Seungkwan takes the elevator, and walks to his black Mercedes, getting in and taking a second to breathe, before he presses the button and drives forward.

\---

Seungcheol’s in a black mask and a black cap, leaning on the entrance of the building.

“You bought this?”

“It was cheap. The bathrooms and things I broke down and they’re rented to like shops and things who store stuff from the market now. I just kept the actual gym.”

“Why?”

“So I can work out in peace,” the door unlocks from Seungkwan’s wiggling key, and it creaks open.

Seungkwan turns the lights on and they illuminate the room, the same as it was 10 years ago and more. No machinery, nothing automatic. The ring in the center, the jumping rope, the barbells, arm and leg weights on the side, next to the frame from doing pull-ups.

Seungkwan and Seungcheol’s teacher didn’t believe in machinery; he used to say there’s nothing that the human body and some augmentation can’t do. He used to send them around the block running with leg weights instead of a treadmill, and run up the stairs in the building instead of the step machine or anything of the sort.

“I hope you’re still in shape, hyung. I practice often,” he smirks to Seungcheol.

\---

One thing will never change. The adrenaline when Seungcheol’s in front of him in the ring, arms wrapped and high up defending his face, bouncing slightly from one leg to the other. Seungkwan holds the arm pads, breathing in to match his movements to Seungcheol’s slight ones, ready for when Seungcheol comes closer.

_Punch punch cross kick,_ the sound of limbs hitting the pads is the same, but Seungkwan almost didn’t anticipate the strength of Seungcheol’s hits. He’s not taking him easy.

He braces himself before the next round, putting strength behind his holds to counteract Seungcheol’s hits. _Punch punch cross kick, punch punch cross kick,_ Seungcheol slowly picks up speed until there’s no break between his movements, his hits to the pad steady and strong.

He’s not sweating yet. Doesn’t even breathe hard when he switches his stance and the order of the hands is switched, Seungkwan mirroring him. He’s releasing slow puffs of air when he hits though, covered by the sound of his fists and legs hitting the pads.

Before Seungkwan knows it, he’s done.

“I’ve done mine. Your turn,” he takes the pads from Seungkwan, and Seungkwan gets himself ready.

_Punch punch cross kick,_ there’s nothing he needs to know besides that, the order smoothly flowing from his brain to his limbs until they’ve gotten into the muscle memory of the action they know so well.

The point of these exercises is to know your partner. To smoothly flow through the rounds, your timing must be the same, and one must perfectly anticipate the movements of the other, so that picking up speed is natural and the chain isn’t broken. Seungcheol’s still good at guessing him, so that even when Seungkwan puts more power behind his movements, Seungcheol needs only one breath to adjust.

And before he himself knows it too, his body tells him it’s been 30 on his second leg, and he pauses, his breathing catching a little.

“You train often.”

“3-4 times a week. I have a trainer.”

“Does he come here?”

“Yes. Not as good as Kim-ahjusshi though.”

“Hmm. Let’s see what he teaches you then.”

Seungcheol throws the pads away over the ring, and now Seungkwan’s mind spikes.

No matter how long the warm-up, in the end, we all get ready for the big thing.

Seungcheol smirks at him, and comes closer, slightly bouncing. He’s going to punch first with his right arm, if he still does it as he used to.

He does, so Seungkwan easily dodges, ducks and gets in his defense to try to lay down a hit to his solar plexus, but before he can, he feels his hands hit away and an elbow in his ribs, catching him by surprise, ducking and moving away.

Seungcheol smirks at him. So he knows he’s predictable nowadays, probably uses it to his own advantage.

Seungkwan quickly realizes that even if he knows Seungcheol, so many things have changed.

He has to fight Seungcheol like someone completely new, who he doesn’t know at all. He can’t rely on his old knowledge of how they were years ago; nostalgia is an emotion, and emotions other than excitement aren’t allowed in fighting.

So this time, he charges at Seungcheol. He’s always been more aggressive in fighting, and from the first few punches Seungcheol blocks, he can see Seungcheol’s strength is defense. No matter how much he pushes, the only thing he lands is a weak kick to his hip that only throws Seungkwan off his balance and lets Seungcheol punch him in the stomach.

Two real hits already from Seungcheol. They didn’t use to be like this; they used to be better matched.

Seungkwan won’t let himself be humiliated in front of Seungcheol.

“I was with the mafia for 8 years, Seungkwan. You think I can’t fight?”

Yeah, Seungkwan definitely won’t be humiliated.

There’s one thing he has now that scrawny Seungkwan didn’t have back then: strength. He doesn’t rely on speed much anymore, and Seungcheol wouldn’t know that.

So next time, he blocks two of Seungcheol’s punches, lets him land a kick to his side he clenches not to feel, and grabs Seungcheol’s defenseless arms, smoothly turning around. He knows that he made it when he hears Seungcheol’s untimed, surprised breath, right before he throws Seungcheol over his shoulder and smoothly kneels over him with a knee on his stomach.

He gets back up in a second because that position is vulnerable to being thrown over, and looks at a huffing Seungcheol with a challenge in his eyes.

Seungcheol comes back at him, and most of his hits land weak, Seungkwan landing more on him than not, the sound of legs kicking the sides of their body ringing out, along with their hard breaths.

They take a few steps back. A break. Another time, Seungkwan would look for weaknesses in his position to see if any hits landed particularly hard, but he’s suddenly taken with the fact that it’s Seungcheol in front of him, a fire burning in his eyes that he’s never really stopped seeing.

Determination, strategy, power. Seungkwan thinks Seungcheol must see the same things in his eyes.

He walks towards him again. The difference between real street fights and proper fights is the timing. People think that in a real street fight you hit hard, but Seungkwan has found that is not the case; you should scramble to find the opponent’s weakest points and hit them as quickly as you can for no breathing time, and a few successful hits even without most of your power behind them will ensure the opponent is incapacitated and too taken aback to focus on which part of his body to hit with.

In proper fights like this, you have to keep a cadenced timing; you don’t seek to land your hits quickly, but with power and the right timing to keep you going to the next one. There’s no rush.

That’s why it’s a mind game; when Seungkwan gets two strong punches in a row, he gets reminded again that it’s his weak point, focus and strategy.

But so it goes. When Seungkwan lands a proper kick but realizes he can’t actually put the power behind it, he grabs Seungcheol’s sides and pushes him to the floor, smoothly straddling his thighs.

“So that’s why I’m here,” Seungcheol breathes out, panting with a smile, and Seungkwan keeps looking down at him. “You fight well.”

That passion when fighting that’s always shown on TV, that translates into sexual tension in a position like this? It’s not for them. Seungkwan and Seungcheol fight to win and get better, and when that mindset takes over, there’s no room for sexual tension that distracts the mind from what it needs to do.

It comes though. Now when the fight is done, seeing Seungcheol panting and smiling under him, feeling him hold his thighs in a strong grip? It comes.

Seungkwan kisses him, bends down and arches his back to press himself to Seungcheol’s chest, push his tongue in his mouth. Seungcheol’s hands move to grab his ass, grind Seungkwan up to him.

“Will nobody come here?”

“Nobody will,” Seungkwan nods, rushes to get himself out of his shorts, does the same to Seungcheol and grabs them both in one hand, Seungcheol’s cock rubbing against his.

Nothing a fight _and_ a good orgasm can’t fix.

\---

They’re sweaty and gross from two reasons now, but Seungkwan can’t help but cuddle up to Seungcheol on the floor of the ring, laying his head on Seungcheol’s extended arm.

It’s peaceful. The memories are powerful, and Seungcheol’s back here...

“Seungkwan-ah... run away with me.”

And the peace is finished. Seungkwan scoffs against Seungcheol’s skin. As if.

“I’m serious. My job in Paju was the last one. I’m done.”

“Why did you start working for them in the first place?” Seungkwan gets up, looks down at Seungcheol, who interlocks his arms behind his head.

“My father... gambled. He lost some money.”

“Oh, so he gambled too, before he upped and left you and your mother?” Seungkwan snarks.

“It was my fault, Seungkwan-ah. That everything fell apart for him, so I had to do it. I don’t blame him.”

Seungkwan gets that ice back in his veins.

“It was not your fault. Why don’t you blame somebody else? Blame me! _Hate me!”_

Seungcheol gets up, Seungkwan’s outburst too untimed. The cadence of the fight is lost before it’s even started.

Seungcheol hugs him instead. “I’m serious, Seungkwan. Run away with me.”

“I can’t. You know I can’t, Seungcheol-hyung,” he sighs, hugs him tighter.

“I know. I just wanted to say it anyway,” he runs a hand through Seungkwan’s wet hair, hums in his ear. “You loved to sing, remember? Back when we were kids.”

Seungkwan remembers, of course he does. It’s all he wanted to do.

“One time I fell off the swing and got hurt, and had to stay home for a few weeks. The first day, you came to my room and almost dragged me out because you wanted to play. Mom had to explain to you I couldn’t play for a while, but if you wanted to, you should sing a song to me, because it would make the hurt go away faster.”

Seungkwan remembers that, does remember it, remembers singing a song he had heard on the radio that day to Seungcheol, the lyrics mumbled and wrong.

“Every day I think of it, try to hold on to that memory. Even as it gets blurrier, I do remember the feeling. The warmth in my chest. The sound of your soft voice because you were too shy to sing properly. You cried, remember?”

Seungkwan wants to cry now.

“I could never blame you for anything from back then. Because when I think of that memory, I realize how much I’ve always loved you, and how that has never changed.”

\---

“Ah, Boo Seungkwan. I didn’t expect you to come here.” The man stares him down over the poker table, a lit cigar in his teeth. “I’m more used to dealing with your father.”

“Well... I was hoping you’d be able to help me with that.”

“Help you? You come here, win all my money, and ask me for a favor too?” He laughs, mockingly.

Seungkwan, a 25-year-old whose biggest dream was to be an idol when he first met this man. He'd mock himself too.

“I didn’t say it was a favor, Minister Yoon.” He quietly puts the envelope down on the poker table. “Although if we were to count, you probably owe us one, that with getting your son a job in our firm despite his scandal.”

His teeth grit; Seungkwan smiles.

“But that’s behind us, isn’t it? I love Jeonghan like my older brother, and he loves me too, as a younger brother. That should vouch for me. That... and these,” he points to the envelope, signaling that he should pick it up.

His face drops as the printouts come into his view.

“15-years-old is a bit young, isn’t it? Even only for photos.”

“How... how did you find this out?” He trembles, his eyes wide.

The truth is Jeonghan gave them to him. But the truth is not something he’ll give today. Yoon loves his son; Seungkwan wouldn't ruin that relationship for Jeonghan.

“I also want those to never come out. We’re on the same side here, I want us to be on the same side.”

“What do you want?” The man croaks at him.

“5 years ago, when I was not here, my father wanted to skip some safety measures on a building we designed and built. He gave you 4 billion won for it. I need proof of that.”

Yoon’s eyes widen even further, if possible, his face dropping in his hands.

“Take these as a token of my appreciation,” Seungkwan drops his chips on the table, pushing them to him. “I’ll drop by tomorrow, how does that sound? Gives you time to see which people you can blame to save your career, or leave Korea if you want. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of Jeonghan.”

He gets up, the thrumming in his veins from the nervousness of this making his legs tremble. Thankfully, he doesn’t stumble.

“I hope you don’t turn me in for gambling,” Seungkwan winks, and walks out of the door.

\---

_“Fuck,”_ Seungkwan exclaims as Seungcheol pushes his face in the pillow, three of his fingers deep inside Seungkwan.

“You said you wanted it, hmm. Are you not ready?"

“I am. Give it to me,” he whines, muffled by the pillow, arching back into Seungcheol’s touches.

“Easy, princess,” Seungcheol kisses his shoulder, twists his fingers inside him to open him up for him, firing the pleasure inside him until Seungkwan’s a whining mess.

“Fuck me, Cheol,” he begs, feeling as eventually, so long after, Seungcheol lines himself up and pushes into him.

The heaviness of Seungcheol inside him, how he’s so hesitant to push until Seungkwan arches himself back; this is what he’s familiar with. This is what calms him down when he has to make calls like the one he’s done tonight.

But Seungcheol fucks him just the same, always the same and yet never boring, sliding into him until he’s fully inside Seungkwan, his cock dragging inside him when he pulls out and pushes back in.

Seungkwan meets him at every thrust, his nails digging into the pillow and his hair all messed up, moaning as Seungcheol lands a hard slap on his ass.

“You’re eager tonight, princess,” he moans out, clearly affected, and Seungkwan chuckles between two groans, Seungcheol pressing by his spot.

“Harder, Cheol-ah, please,” he demands, biting the pillow when Seungcheol picks up the pace, the filthy sounds of skin slapping against skin ringing out for the neighbors to probably hear.

Whatever. It doesn't matter after tonight. Seungkwan’s so close he only needs a hand on himself for a minute before he comes over the sheets, trembling and pushing himself more on Seungcheol for _deeper, more._

It doesn’t take long for Seungcheol to come inside him as well, filling him up, come dripping down his thigh when he pulls out.

Seungcheol would love to eat him out, he knows, but Seungkwan... has a purpose tonight.

He gives himself five seconds before pulling himself up, taking Seungcheol’s hand to bring him to the shower.

\---

“What’s up?” Seungcheol asks over chicken later, both of them in only underwear at Seungkwan’s kitchen table. “You’ve been on edge the whole night.”

“You said you’re looking for jobs, right?” Seungkwan asks, looking into Seungcheol’s eyes.

“Yeah. Trying to find something I can do.”

“I have one for you,” Seungkwan swallows, the chicken and his nerves altogether.

Seungcheol raises his eyebrows.

“How does Vicepresident of BCK Group sound?”

\---

It goes like this: 4 coffees by 4 AM and Seungkwan’s pile of files to look through only seems bigger and bigger, but across from him, the sight of Seungcheol looking through the same files only gives him more energy to work.

The next day, not having slept a wink, Seungkwan drops the box from the car. It’s a bad sign, but he braves it and takes the elevator and takes all the stares of the employees certainly with fresh rumors on their lips.

By the end of this meeting, they’ll have many rumors to spread.

Seungkwan drops the box on the table, faces his father across from him, and switches the USB stick already in the computer with his own.

\---

He wishes there was another way to do this other than anonymously releasing this information to the press, and calling his father out in front of the entire nation. But the way he's been running his company and his family is something Seungkwan has never agreed with.

Bribery, shady contracts, cutting profits... Seungkwan will never do that, he always promised himself, and will never stand for it.

The investigation will drag forever, but that's alright for Seungkwan. He has time to clean his company.

With someone else by his side too. He finishes arranging the things on the desk, straightening the nameplate until it glints under the light from the glass window, right as the owner of the office walks in.

_'Choi Seungcheol, Vicepresident'_

"Is this my welcoming party?" Seungcheol smiles at him, puts his hands on Seungkwan's hips, dashingly handsome in his fitted suit and with his hair up, looking like he belongs.

"Just me," Seungkwan smiles, looking up at him.

"You're all I need," Seungcheol cheesily winks at him, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. _"President."_

"Stop," Seungkwan whines, hits his chest. "It's embarrassing."

"Well, it better stop being embarrassing in the next five minutes, cause we have to go do the press conference."

"I know," Seungkwan nods, purses his lips. "I'm ready."

"Let's go," Seungcheol kisses him again, takes his hand and interlocks their fingers.

Seungkwan squeezes them, and they walk out of the door _together._

_[8 years before]_

_"What's this about, Boo?" Seungcheol's father walks in with Seungcheol in tow. 20-year old Seungcheol in his suit and hair done up, who's nothing like the soft, happy, unbridled boy Seungkwan knows._

_Seungkwan almost tears up right then. His shoulder's still hurting, the pain of the date etched on his skin burning. The day they started dating. He wonders if Seungcheol's is the same._

_"Our merger's over, Choi. Our whole agreement is. I'm buying your firm, and there's no choice you have in it," his father announces, Seungcheol's father's shocked face grabbing Seungkwan's attention._

_He can't bear to look at Seungcheol. Can't._

_"What are you saying, Boo? We've worked on this merger for years."_

_"And now it's done. There's no merger."_

_"What happened, are you insane?" Seungcheol's father rages, slamming his hands on the table. "You think I'm just going to stand here and listen to you spouting this bullshit?"_

_"Oh, but you are. You are, Choi," his father scoffs, smirks, pulling Seungkwan's phone out of his pocket. "Otherwise, I'll make your family's life a living hell."_

_Seungkwan raises his hand to his mouth, tears welling up in his eyes. He can feel Seungcheol's eyes on him. He must know. _He must know.

_His father puts in the code to his phone, turning it to Seungcheol's father._

_"You tell me, isn't this your son? Isn't this your _20-year old son_ with my _17-year-old boy?"

_The horror dawns upon the room, and Seungkwan can't keep the quiet sobs back. It's _his fault._ It's his fault for taking the photos, for convincing Seungcheol to, it's his fault for _everything,_ but... nobody is going to see that. Nobody is going to see that they've been together since they were both underage, since four years ago, that Seungcheol's done nothing to him ever and always kept his boundaries and when it came to pushing, it was always impatient, greedy Seungkwan who begged for more even if gentle, kind, understanding Seungcheol wouldn't give it, including those _fucking photos...

_Seungkwan can't bear to look at Seungcheol._

_It's clear it's them. The photos don't show much of their faces but their lips, but it's them. It's clear it's them._

_Seungcheol's father is stunned into silence, and his father puts Seungkwan's phone back into his own pocket._

_"Leave, Choi. I'll have our lawyers send you the papers on Monday."_

_Seungcheol's father gets up, his grip tight on Seungcheol's shirt. He's... he's going to beat up Seungcheol again, Seungkwan knows, the tears falling in ugly sobs at his helplessness, the weight of his guilt. He wishes he could do something, go after him..._

_"Take a step and I'll end you," his father whispers to him between gritted teeth, his heavy hand gripping Seungkwan's shoulder. "You've made the right choice, son," he says louder, enough for _them_ to hear._

_Seungkwan looks at Seungcheol for the first time, fearful of what he'll see, trying to send his apologies for messing up, forgetting to delete his photos before his father's weekly check..._

_Seungcheol _is_ looking back at him, and the look on his face?_

_Seungkwan won't be able to forget that for as long as he lives._

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe things change when you see the past at the end, right? ;) 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


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